


Hook & Sinker

by teasoni



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: :'), Angst, Cunnilingus, F/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Rough Sex, Smut, a fun lil fic to combat writers block, plus what better way to christen my new ao3 account
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 20:44:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11089566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teasoni/pseuds/teasoni
Summary: The assignment was simple: supervise the disgraced Commander Shepard while she served her term under house arrest.But, of course, things are never really that straightforward, especially when Shepard is concerned.





	Hook & Sinker

“You seem stressed, Commander.”

Shepard took pause; here she was, pacing the length of her cramped Vancouver apartment wracked with stress and frustration, and all James Vega could do was laze about on _her_ sofa drinking _her_ beer. She turned on him with her fists balled and her eyes flaming.

“I’m under house arrest, Vega,” she snapped. “And stop calling me ‘Commander’. I’m not Alliance anymore, remember?”

James clicked his tongue and leaned forwards, bracing his elbows on his knees and smiling an infuriating little smile that Shepard elected to ignore. She made another tight little turn about the room, scowling out at the air traffic past the living area’s bay window, aware of James’s eyes tracking each of her movements. “All right, if that’s how you wanna play. Gotta work something out of your system?”

“Multiple things,” Shepard called over her shoulder as she ascended the short flight of steps and toward her bedroom. “Better put the beer down, Vega, because I’m going to the gym and you’re coming with me. I’m going to kick your ass.”

James perked up immediately. He never really saw any action ever since he’d been assigned to oversee Shepard; not when she was on the brig and not after she was moved under house arrest. He was a soldier, God damn it, not a babysitter! He reminded himself to think of that next time he went to bash a Batarian’s skull in with a flatscreen.

Still… Jane Shepard was one hell of a woman to babysit, and if it had to be anyone, James was glad it was her. _Commander_ Jane Shepard, his hero, the person he admired ever since she took down Saren Arterius years before. She was always a poster girl to him, something to look up to, to revere; the other marines used to tease him for it, but he never let it get to him. As far as James Vega was concerned, Jane Shepard was the epitome of everything an Alliance soldier should be.

The _actual_ Jane Shepard, however, was a different matter entirely.

James was used to seeing her in advertisements and television segments; she was always elevated and surrounded by carnage and bright colours, and yet at the same time was always entirely unruffled; she was always shrewd-eyed and unsmiling and without a single hair out of place. She was a motivation. But… when he’d first followed Anderson to Shepard’s cell he’d seen a wild woman with a shaved head and skin flaking off her face, revealing the glowing implants beneath, and the woman he’d always thought Jane Shepard to be was torn to pieces right in front of his eyes. She was a storm to him, then, all crazed eyes and bared teeth and angry, hot tears. It came as a shock to his system and he wondered if maybe – just maybe – this wasn’t Jane Shepard at all. But her eyes… they held him so completely that he knew it couldn’t be anybody else. Anderson filled him in while he was only half-listening, most of his attention focussed on the way Shepard paced her cell in long strides, her expression tight and angry, prowling like a caged animal.

Who would’ve thought that Commander Shepard was a human just like the rest of them? For some reason the thought had never occurred to James. Commander Shepard was no longer a Commander – she was a criminal waiting to stand trial unless Anderson could come up with some sort of diplomatic bullshit to bail her out. Which, he assured her, he would.

And so James Vega found himself the jailkeeper of his hero. Part of him hated it, but the other part revelled in it; like this, he was able to observe all the facets of Jane Shepard that the documentaries and posters hadn’t shown. The way she talked in her sleep and preferred to sit with her back to the sun in the mornings. The way she drummed her fingers on her thigh, her constant restlessness, the way her muscles were always drawn in taut. He watched the cosmetic scars from Cerberus heal over and conceal the flickering magma beneath her skin – fitting, he thought. She reminded him of an active volcano, sometimes.

The first few months were the hardest. James barely dared speak to Shepard; he just followed her like a dog, went where he was told to and did the bidding of the higher-ups while Anderson attempted to broker a deal for her. Finally, a little over a year since her initial arrest, she was released from the brig and allowed to return to Vancouver. Shepard was a spacer and didn’t have a home outside the Alliance, so they gave her a small, one-bedroom apartment on Vancouver’s Alliance base. Rumours flew, naturally, and even though Shepard was free to roam around the complex, she rarely left her room. James had his own place – smaller, sure, and only a studio adjacent to Shepard’s lodgings, but it did the job. Hell, he spent most of his time with her anyway, so it didn’t make much difference.

Six months after that and they began talking. He still called her _Commander_ reflexively and secretly enjoyed the way she’d bite her lip whenever he did. Admittedly, James liked being with her. As the trauma of taking down the Collectors faded and the fresh wounds began to heal, Shepard came out of her shell a little bit. Her shaved hair grew out and she became softer, filling out the frame made lean by her unwillingness to eat anything while on the brig, and she began to reveal little habits that made her almost shockingly human. And somehow she never got sick of James being there to babysit her. In fact, she was the first one to crack a joke about it.

Being under house arrest was like caging a wild animal. Shepard grew fierce and restless and unwittingly spent her time around the windows of the base that faced towards the city. She would pace from one end of a room to the other with her hands folded tightly behind her back and her eyes trained on the ground.

Jane Shepard, James had learned, was made of power. Her body was stocky and packed with muscle, sinfully lean in all the right places, and her mind was a powerhouse of information and intellect, a killer combination of experience and brains. James had never met anyone so well-rounded when it came to brains and brawn both, and the more he saw just how adept Shepard was, the surer he became that his admiration of her was not misplaced. Sure, she was crass and irritable and had a whole host of psychological trauma to deal with, but he understood that, and gave her whatever space she needed.

She was also sexy as sin, something James was very well aware of. For once it didn’t take seeing that woman in a state of undress to get his gears going; she merely had to meet his gaze with hooded eyes, or stick out one of her hips while speaking to him, or frown at him in the morning after a sleep-in, when she was still warm and ruffled from sleep. Seeing her in the gym made his blood burn. Her muscles danced and shimmered like water beneath her skin, glistening with sweat, and she’d take out all her anger on the punching bags – or any sparring partners, of which there was never any short supply. All the Alliance recruits practically pissed themselves for a shot at going up against Commander Shepard.

He'd seen her naked, once. Just once. She hadn’t been aware he was there when she’d made to walk from the bathroom to her bedroom, and as far as James knew she’d never found out. He’d let himself into her apartment to check up on her and had just happened to come across her as naked as the day she was born. He’d caught a glimpse of heavy breasts and skin still slick with water; he’d seen the dark thatch of hair between her thighs, the way it creeped a little towards her navel. And those thighs, Christ…

Somehow she didn’t realise he’d seen her, disappearing into her bedroom to change, none the wiser. James found it hard to look her in the eye for a few days after that; whenever he did he could do nothing but imagine how that powerful, _beautiful_ body would look lowering itself down onto his –

“James!”

Starting, James blinked rapidly, Shepard’s sharp voice calling him from his daydream. She’d changed into her sweats and sports tank and stood by the door to the apartment, eyebrows raised. “You done zoning out there?”

“Y-yeah,” he replied, going over to where she stood. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

They arrived at the gym a little before five o’clock. Around this time was when the gym was usually at its emptiest, a few lingering recruits finishing up before heading to the mess hall. They made their way to the wide, empty room usually reserved for sparring, its floor padded and ceiling high. Shepard dropped the bag she was carrying and kicked off her shoes, wandering into the middle of the floor.

“Don’t go easy on me,” James told her with a sly smile, and she tossed him a smirk over her shoulder. God, he loved it when she did that.

James liked sparring with Shepard for two reasons. Firstly, he liked to test himself, and Shepard was one hell of an opponent and fought in a style he wasn’t familiar with. He’d only bested her once. His second reason was more… unconventional. He enjoyed sparring with Shepard because she wasn’t a dodger. She parried, sure, but she didn’t dance around or avoid his hits like others tended to do. She got up all close and personal and used her body weight to throw him around, using a ménage of high-skill martial arts moves he wasn’t entirely familiar with. He enjoyed sparring with her because he liked feeling her body weight – hell, just her _body_ was enough. Looking at her was one thing – feeling her was another. Sparring was the only change he ever got to have her straddling him, and he was pretty convinced he’d lose on purpose just for that.

“Pay attention!” Shepard barked, landing a hit to his gut that made his teeth snap shut. “Don’t make this easy for me, Vega.”

It was a dance. He moved forwards, she moved back, and vice versa, bodies moving closely all the while. Sometimes they would meet in the middle, Shepard’s arms winding around his neck or his waist, or – even better – her legs snaking over the ridge of his hips or shoulders.

This was one of James’s lucky days, apparently.

Shepard took advantage of a moment of distraction to vault herself up off the mats, twisting herself and managing to bring James to his knees with a swift jab behind the kneecaps. From there she slung a leg over his shoulder, twisting him around to lock her thighs around his head, bending one of his arms back behind his back. He spluttered, almost achingly aware of the way Shepard’s sweats rubbed against his chin and her breath came ragged from exertion. Without thinking, James raised his hips from the mat and groaned.

“Tap out, Vega!”

God, her weight on his chest felt so… good. _Too_ good. James let his eyes flicker shut as her thighs drew tighter around his head and then – _Dios,_ God was looking down on him! – the ridge of his chin rode up against the seam of her sweats and hit her square between the legs. His eyes flew open in time to see Shepard’s smirk turn to shock; and then she gasped deeply, thighs tensing around his ears.

Heat. It was hot. Hotter than James remembered it being when they walked into this room. Hot between Shepard’s thighs where he couldn’t breathe, could barely think. All he had to do was angle his chin down a little and open his mouth, and he’d –

Before he could so much as make sense of the situation, Shepard rolled off him, rocking onto her hands and knees for a moment before getting up and brushing herself down, pushing her dark hair back from her face. James lay there, mortified and titillated. He didn’t dare look at Shepard.

“Get up,” she told him shortly in her _I’m-Commander-Shepard_ voice (his favourite one), and James leapt to his feet, more on instinct than anything. “I could’ve suffocated you, Vega. Tap out next time.” Was she… flustered? Christ, she _was_.

“You can suffocate me any time,” James replied jokingly, the words leaving him before he could stop them. A second later had him flushing with absolute mortification as Shepard stared him down, mouth slightly agape.

And then… and then she flushed, tucking her hair behind her ear before pressing her hand to the side of her neck in a gesture that was almost nervous, almost… _girlish_. He could see her jaw working as she ground her teeth. James had expected her to yell at him, or to give him the cold shoulder, or to give him a dressing down for saying something so out of line.

Hesitation was the _last_ thing he expected.

“We’re done here,” Shepard said finally, her voice oddly quiet and devoid of anger. She flickered a glance at James, whose gut tightened in response. “We’re going back. Now.”

The walk from the gym to Shepard’s apartment was possibly the longest walk in James Vega’s life. He walked behind her, eyes practically glued to her ass, and he _knew_ she knew that he was looking. But she said nothing. James didn’t know if it was because she was livid or not – the anticipation was eating him alive.

“Inside.” Shepard stood by the door as James obediently entered, and the moment the door closed the locking signature changed from green to red. He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.

His attention was torn from the door as Shepard anchored a fist in the front of his shirt, half-dragging him into the living room area and shoving him forwards. James had never experienced Shepard being so bodily aggressive before – it was making him react in all kinds of ways he’d rather not think about. Shepard looked wild, hair unruly and stuck to her face, lips parted and eyes bright. She licked her teeth; nervousness? James decided he didn’t want to speculate. So he stood there like a good soldier should, feet apart and hands behind his back, silent.

“You’re shameless, Vega,” Shepard began in a low, dangerous voice, approaching him until they stood almost chest-to-chest. “I could’ve hurt you, you know. Don’t _do_ that, not when I’m taking something seriously. If you wanted… if you wanted _that_ kind of thing, then…”

Oh, no. Jane Shepard was flustered. The realisation dawned slowly, but once it hit James it hit _hard_. She was flustered and – maybe, just maybe – a little turned on.

“You could’ve just asked.”

_Dios._

James could barely bring himself to speak; his tongue was too swollen, sitting useless between his teeth as his throat struggled to squeeze words out. His brain was short-circuiting. Had Shepard – _Commander_ Shepard, hero of his youth – just…?

“Then,” James finally rasped. “Consider this me _asking_.”

Shepard’s nostrils flared, a million different thoughts racing through her head at once. The next second her hand was back in his shirt again, her pinkie finger hooked into the chain of his dog tags. “On your knees, soldier.”

James fell to his knees like a priest to prayer, gazing up along the strong line of Shepard’s body, barely aware of her fingers working at the drawstring of her sweats. Her face was flushed deeply, now, her eyes flickering about restlessly, hooded and deliciously dark. He could practically hear her blood pounding through her veins. Shepard dropped her sweats, letting them pool at her ankles, revealing the standard black underpants she wore beneath, with which James suddenly found himself eye-level. The very tip of his nose skirted up along the cotton and Shepard _shivered_ , one hand coming down to scrape over his scalp.

“How long’s it been?” he asked, voice muffled as he slotted his chin between her legs, breathing in the strong, heady scent before pressing the flat of his tongue over the fabric. Shepard let out a whimper, her hold in his hair growing tighter and her thighs quivering.

“T-three years,” she gasped as he dragged his tongue upwards, hooking his fingers into the waistband of her underwear and peeling it down her legs.

“Damn,” James rumbled as she kicked her sweats and underwear out of the way, spreading her thighs and lifting one leg to drape over James’s shoulder. “That’s rough. No wonder you’re wound so tight.”

“Less talking,” Shepard snarled, shoving his face back between her legs. James let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a moan, gripping her thigh and dragging his tongue up along her slit. The mere thought that he was _eating out Commander Jane Shepard_ was enough to make him dizzy, let alone the way she _smelled_ …

If there was one thing James knew how to do well, it was eating out women. He had experience and loved to give this kind of attention; Shepard, it seemed, didn’t expect that level of expertise, and it took him less than two minutes to have her curling over him, thighs shaking, her nails raking almost painfully against his scalp. From that moment on, James’s most novel accomplishment was the fact he’d managed to make Commander Shepard orgasm in less than three minutes.

After coming down from that first trembling high, Shepard took a few unsteady steps back, the back of her hand pressed to her forehead. James remained on his knees, tongue burning from where it had been lapping at her swollen clit just a few seconds ago, unsure what to do.

Shepard was breathing hard. “Get in the bedroom,” she rasped after a few moments, her dark eyes blown wide with lust. “Before I change my mind.”

James practically tripped over his own feet as he all but dove into her bedroom, eyeing the wide bed in the centre of the room, his throat tightening. He still couldn’t quite wrap his head around what was happening.

“Get on the bed. On your back.” Shepard’s tone allowed for no argument - not that James was planning on it. He scrambled onto her bed, rolling over obediently onto his back and staring down the length of his body at her. The bulge between his legs had grown a little more pronounced, his cock already half-hard from the way she’d thrown him around and pushed his face between her legs. He licked his lips at the thought.

Shepard’s eyes never left him as she shut the door behind her, shucking her tank off over her head and making quick work of the ordinary black sports bra she’d worn to the gym, flicking it across the room. God, she was beautiful… all dark skin and freckles and bright, golden eyes. Her hair, black as night yet shot through with grey, curled unruly about her face, framing her cheekbones and her nose, and James very well nearly lost his breath.

Women with muscle always turned him on, somehow, but Jane Shepard was on another level entirely. She had the kind of body he’d never seen before; her shoulders were broad and her arms muscled, her skin the same honey-brown all over and flecked with dark moles here and there. Wide hips and a toned belly and thighs streaked with pale stretch marks - the way they cupped her belly made James wonder what they were from, because they most likely weren’t just from growing. He figured it probably wasn’t the best time to ask.

“So that’s what you’re into, huh?” Shepard asked as she lowered her knee onto the end of the bed, the mattress dipping beneath her weight, and she propped a hand on her hip, looking at him with the smallest of smirks.

“Well, yeah,” James rumbled, shifting on the bed a little as his pants began to draw uncomfortably tight. “I mean it’s not every day I get a beautiful woman’s thighs wrapped around my head.”

Usually, she would’ve given him a smack for saying something like that. This time, however, Shepard snorted and reached out to lean her weight against his thighs, hands resting a little above his knees. Her smirk grew a fraction as she began to crawl the length of his body, as slow and careful as a cat, eyes struggling not to roam all over his body. She was hungry.

“Take this off,” she purred, tugging at his shirt, and as James hastily pulled it over his head she chased it with her fingers, tracing the rise and fall of his muscles up over his stomach and chest, her eyes scouring over the skin, drinking it in. She could feel his galloping heart and he blushed, embarrassed that she could tell how excited he was. Her only response was to dig her fingernails into his skin hard enough to make him hiss. “You’re going to stay still,” she told him. “And you aren’t going to touch, Vega. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he breathed, and Shepard smiled, biting her lip and rising to her knees, shuffling up until she straddled his chin. He could see how slick she was already, the dark hair between her legs glistening, and James couldn’t help but lick his teeth in anticipation. All he wanted to do was to grab her by the hips and pull her down on his face, and to keep her there until he suffocated.

James almost purred when Shepard’s hand speared through his hair, scratching almost affectionately at his scalp as she hovered tantalisingly over his face.

“Easy, now,” she breathed, letting the heavy weight of her body settle over his nose and his mouth; then she rolled her hips, grazing her clit over the tip of his nose, and shuddered.

Hell, she was already wet. He could see the way her fingers shook as she reached down and tugged at herself, spreading wet folds to reveal the deep flush of her pussy. His mouth almost began to water. The smell was stronger here, and he briefly considered grabbing her by those delicious hips of hers and pulling her down onto his face, but then he remembered - no touching. She hadn’t expressed a punishment, but he didn’t doubt she had one in mind.

Thankfully James didn’t have to wait long for a taste. Shepard grabbed what she could of his close-cropped hair and ground her cunt down on his face, her tongue stuck between her teeth and the most endearing little frown knotted between her brows. He moaned immediately, his tongue dragging out and lapping at her almost desperately; he hadn’t been this desperate for a woman in years and years. Even his fingers itched at his sides, practically aching to reach up and grab at the flesh of her thighs or her ass, to somehow push himself in deeper. Shepard gripped the headboard with the hand not anchored in James’s hair, her hips settling into a feverish rocking motion that allowed her to grind her clit against his lips and his nose.

“Look at me,” she snarled, tugging harshly at his hair, and James forced his eyes open. She looked down at him with lust-blown eyes, lids lowered to half-mast, her tongue still balancing on her lower lip. His gaze dragged down over her skin, over the way her dark nipples peaked in arousal, the fullness of her breasts and the way her flesh creased at her navel when she buckled over in pleasure. “Shit, your tongue is so - !”

James didn’t realise how badly he needed to breathe until Shepard lifted herself off him, sticky strings of precum strung between her cunt and his chin. He licked at his lips and gave her a wolfish smile, trying his best to ignore the ache in his pants. No touching. Lungs burning for air. Desperation. He barely knew himself anymore; all he knew was that he _needed_ her like he needed air to live.

“Good boy,” she panted, her tugging fingers instead electing to smooth over his scalp. The touch prickled the entire way through James’s body, right from his scalp to his toes, setting each and every one of his nerves alight. “You all right?”

Swallowing, James nodded. Shepard continued her petting for a few more moments, even going so far as to stroke her thumb over his cheek in a gesture that was vaguely affectionate. James let his eyes flutter shut at the touch.

Hands dropped from his face to his chest, and the pressure above him began to shift as Shepard positioned herself lower over him. She was frowning again.

“Somethin’ wrong?” James asked, voice slurring, and his question was met with bright golden eyes.

Shepard licked her lips. “I can’t decide,” she admitted, “whether I want you to pin me down and fuck me until I can’t walk or if I want to ride you until I milk you dry.”

The noise that was forced from James’s throat bordered on embarrassing. He was so aroused he thought he might just pass out. “You can do whatever you want, _mami_.”

A pause. Shepard smiled, then, slow and catlike, her slender hands running up over his chest again, appreciating the rise and fall of the muscle. When her fingers reached his dog tags, she looped them beneath the chain, tugging him up enough to kiss him. It wasn’t as desperate as their actions had been before; slow, perhaps a little sweet, _definitely_ teasing. Her teeth caught at his lower lip and he groaned, cock straining against his trousers.

“I like that,” she breathed. “I think you’re going to be a fun ride, _mijo_.”

Despite himself, James laughed, letting his hands come up to cover his face. Shepard didn’t seem to mind; she busied herself with straddling his hips, working open his fatigue trousers and wrestling them off his legs. She hummed appreciatively at the sizeable bulge in his boxers, her hand hovering over it, not touching.

“Shit, I can’t believe this,” he murmured from beneath his hands, scrubbing them over his face just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. When he next looked up he saw Shepard looking at him with hooped eyes and parted lips.

“You’d better,” she purred. “Because what happens in this room doesn’t leave it, understood? Usually I don’t mind regs, but my ass is on the line here.”

“I can think of a better place for your ass -,” James cut off with a groan as Shepard huffed, seating herself down over his clothed cock and _grinding_.

“Yeah, I bet you can.”

Part of her considered teasing him for a bit longer, but her pussy wasn’t willing to wait. Every single touch against her went straight to the pooling heat in her groin. This kind of pleasure was the only thing keeping her mind from wandering places she’d rather not have it go; this kind of pleasure was the only thing that could wash away the rage and the pain that constantly bit at the back of her tongue. She needed it. She needed to have her brain blown apart by orgasm after orgasm. But Jane Shepard never begged, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to start now.

James’s cock was… enormous. It was dark and uncut and thick as anything, wrapped with throbbing veins and already slick at the tip. Its length promised to reach places inside her that had gone neglected for years, and the mere sight of it made her skin rise. She wanted to put her mouth on it, to take hours worshipping it with her tongue and her lips, but there was no time. Not now. So she gripped it, giving it a few firm strokes before positioning herself above him and pushing the head of his dick between her folds. The broad head nudged against her entrance, and she shuddered.

“Condom?” James managed to rasp, but Shepard shook her head.

“We’re both clean and I’ve got shots,” she told him, hating the way her voice trembled with need. _Please, hurry…!_ She looked at him, eyes searching for that single shift of muscle, that tiny flutter of his eyelids, that would signal his consent. Breath catching behind his teeth, James nodded.

There was nothing else he could do other than watch as Shepard sank down onto his cock. Each move was hesitant, as though she was afraid of something, of moving too fast and ruining the moment. He couldn’t look away from her frown or the way she breathed in sharply when his head popped inside her; shit, she was tight…! Her walls were spongy and slick and James swore that he’d never felt such an exquisite pussy before.

Shepard groaned as she sank herself down onto him; she tipped her head back, exposing the swanlike column of her neck as she did so, and James could see her pulse thrumming beneath the skin. Commander Shepard - his hero - was fucking herself down onto his dick with the most absolute blissed-out expression on her face, and James was still partially convinced he was dreaming. He couldn’t move, even if he wanted to - and he _did_ want to - he was anchored to the spot by the sight of her and the knowledge that he had something to do with the pleasure she was feeling.

“ _Madre de Dios,_ ” he swore, shakily, fisting his hands in the sheets and arching his hips up to push a little further into her tight, wet heat, forcing a surprised gasp from deep within her chest. Shepard’s hands came down to press against his chest, only an inch or so of his cock left between them. “Shepard, please… t-touch you…?” The sentence wouldn’t even come out half-formed.

“Wait,” she gasped, giving her hips an exploratory shift, and the pull and drag of the movement almost did James in.

“Nuh uh,” he breathed. _I want you to pin me down and fuck me until I can’t walk._ It echoed over and over again in the back of his mind, and while the reasonable side of him knew this was very likely to get his balls kicked into the next lightyear, his lust-driven conscience wasn’t very prone to reason right now. “I ain’t waiting anymore.”

Shepard let out a startled cry as James’s enormous hands closed around her upper arms and his hips snapped up simultaneously, cramming the last bit of his dick inside her dripping cunt. Golden eyes shot open and she _stared_ at him, her pupils blown so wide they almost swallowed her irises, her lips flushed and parted as though they couldn’t bring in air quickly enough. “Let me take care of you, Jane.”

The noise that came from Shepard’s throat, then, was a sound James Vega had never heard before. It was a cracked noise, almost a plea and yet almost a threat, a challenge; she seemed to draw that sound from all over her body and it made him absolutely _wild_.

The bed creaked as he shoved her down by the shoulders, satisfied with the _oof_ Shepard choked out before her lips became engaged with James’s tongue and teeth. He had one hand pressed to her solar plexus, the other cradling her hip, her thighs spread wide to accommodate his girth. Jane Shepard wasn’t a small woman, not by any shot, but at that moment she looked… delicate, almost. But even so, Shepard’s spirit still burned as bright as ever, and she pounded a closed fist against his chest before grabbing him by the hair and biting down hard into his bottom lip.

“You better make this worth my while, Vega,” she growled, but the breathless moan her words rode upon gave her away. Perhaps it was his pride - after all, James had a bit of a reputation for being a ladies’ man - but something in him snapped, and he pushed himself up onto his knees, looking down between them to ogle the sight of his flushed, rock-hard cock being swallowed up by _Commander Shepard’s_ pussy. And Christ, what a perfect cunt - he could see it fully from here, the tuft of dark hair and honeyed skin, the rosy flush of it, the way it glistened and clung, sucking, to his dick.

_Pin me down and fuck me until I can’t walk._

Something of a smile lilted the corner of James’s lips. _So, the Commander likes it rough._ Should’ve expected it, he figured. Shepard didn’t look like the kind of woman who would opt for sweet love-making. At least… not like this. And certainly not with him.

He drew his hips back, making sure his weight was centred enough to keep him balanced. His cock was already dripping, just from how wet they both were, and the passage was easy. He drew out until the head of his cock was kissing her folds, then drove in again, causing Shepard to throw her head back and _scream_. For a moment he was worried he’d hurt her, but then he pressed the pad of his thumb to her throbbing clit, and he realised the sound was most certainly not one of pain.

“James,” she choked, tears swimming in her eyes as he began to test just how hard he could push her. “Harder -,”

She didn’t need to tell him twice. He pushed her thighs back and apart, spreading her cunt open and letting him drive in _deeper_ , his powerful hips slamming forwards again and again and again. He was the one frowning, now, watching as Shepard began to unwind little by little, her heavy breasts moving with each thrust; soon he moved his hands from her thighs to her hips, flipping her onto her front and pulling her back by the hair, which wrenched a filthy moan from her throat. Kissing at her neck, James cupped both of her breasts in his hands, squeezing them perhaps a little harder than he needed to. By that point, though, Shepard was moaning like she’d forgotten how to speak, melting into each aggressive little movement, each push and each pull, bucking herself wildly against each of his thrusts.

He fucked her through two orgasms, the intensity of which had her writhing and shrieking into the sheets, her pussy rippling around him. He came in her once after that, holding himself deep inside her as he pulsed hot cum against the mouth of her cervix - the mere thought that he was drenching Commander Jane Shepard’s womb in seed was enough to get him hard again almost instantly. He fucked her until her hips were bruised and the sheets were a mess of cum and slick and drool. He fucked her until she slapped him hard across the face, goading him to go _faster_ and _harder_ , and with each mind-numbing climax she wrapped her body around him, melting over him like warm honey. Something about her set him aflame.

It was easy enough to just… breathe her in. She smelled like spices and the salt spray of the ocean, of clean shampoo and linen. He held her, tightly, pressing his face and his teeth against her skin, revelling in the way her body pulled and squeezed at him. And then she laughed, a desperate, sad sound, and threw back her head, nails raking down the swells of James’s biceps as she shuddered on his cock; her teeth ground together, tears spilling from her eyes, and he watched as the muscles of her abdomen clenched and released like white-capped waves on the sea. _Dios,_ he thought. The woman was a masterpiece, all bright colours and tragedy.

“You’ve outdone yourself,” she slurred, her voice croaking and cracking, and she raised a hand to stroke the back of her fingers down the side of James’s face, right where she’d slapped him not ten minutes before. “I’ve always liked fucking marines.”

There was something in her voice, though, that made James uncomfortable. He pressed his fists to the sheets, letting his body weight relax between her thighs as his softening cock slipped free of her, smearing warm cum along the insides of her thighs. It almost sounded like grief, like she _had_ enjoyed herself, but that she was thinking of something else, something her conscience couldn’t shake. James knew it was none of his business, of course, but that didn’t stop him from wondering.

“Manage to work out some of those knots, _jefe_?” he asked with the smallest of smirks, and Shepard rose onto her elbows, her legs splayed and jelly-like over his thighs. She fixed him with smouldering eyes and grinned, teeth flashing.

“It’s a start.”


End file.
